


Tell Me Upside Down

by seashadows



Series: Tell Me Inside Out [2]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles's post-lecture scolding doesn't go how he expected it would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Upside Down

  
  
Nathan was humming when he walked through the kitchen door. It was a low, rhythmic, almost grunting sound – the kind that Charles only ever heard emerge when there was a song percolating in his head. No doubt, singling Charles out in his anatomy class had given him plenty of ideas for eminently metal lyrics.   
  
As Skwisgaar would likely put it, _pfft_.   
  
“Nathan,” he said. The singer stopped in place and stared at him. “I assume you know why I’m sitting here.” It sure as hell wasn’t because he wanted to stuff his face, at any rate, although comfort eating was getting more tempting by the second.   
  
One bright green eye twitched slightly. “You want pie.”   
  
Of course; he was playing dumb. This would be a fun evening. “No.”   
  
“Really? ‘Cause you, y’know, eat a lot of pie,” Nathan said, pulling his hair out of its ponytail and scratching behind his right ear. Stalling, obviously. “You…tried to find the bathroom and you got lost, ‘cause you got really sloppy.”   
  
“No. _What?_ No.” Charles’s mouth fell open. Just how idiotic did Nathan think he was? “Let’s not play around. Nathan, can you tell me exactly why you felt the pressing need to keep sneaking around? For an _anatomy_ degree, of all things?”   
  
Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m allowed to get a fuckin’ education,” he said, crossing his arms. “You got one.”   
  
“Yes, but we’re not discussing my education,” Charles said. “We’re discussing yours.” Come to think of it, was Nathan’s degree even legal, much less legitimate? If he was teaching those kids without credentials, then Gross Anatomy was a shitstorm of repercussions just waiting to happen. “First of all, you failed the GED – dismally. How on earth did you get this far?”   
  
If looks could kill, Charles supposed he would have been incinerated into a pile of manager-flavored ash five minutes ago. Nathan’s brows were creased into such a deep, glaring frown that lines were cutting between his eyes. “Online classes, assfuck,” he growled. “Class videos and shit. People do that all the time.”   
  
“Yes, they do – in technical professions. No university that I know of offers online degrees in anatomy,” Charles said. “What you found was probably some kind of online racket, and there’s nothing legitimate about it. How long did it take you to be certified, anyway?”   
  
Nathan’s eyes sparked. “You think any college wasn’t gonna want to take me?” he said. “I’m Nathan motherfucking Explosion. Florida Tech let me take bio classes and shit online, and I just flew over for the finals. Took me a while.”   
  
“How on earth did you manage to fly to _college_ without my knowing?” Charles asked. He didn’t make those kinds of oversights – he just didn’t.   
  
Nathan shrugged a huge shoulder. “I said I was gonna go visit my parents. Fuckin’ brutal, but what else was I gonna tell you?”  
  
“…oh.” For once, Charles was out of words.   
  
That explained a _lot_.   
  
“Uh…yeah.” Clumsily, Nathan took advantage of the silence to continue speaking. “So, uh. I did that a lot, so it was…four years? Then I graduated, but I didn’t go get my diploma ‘cause that shit ain’t metal.”  
  
“Of course it isn’t,” Charles said, a little dazedly. Hadn’t Nathan said right from the beginning that _graduations_ in particular weren’t metal? Graduations and awards ceremonies, where all you would get was a diploma and some free cake? Well, it looked like he’d known what he was talking about. “You obtained your Ph.D., I presume.”   
  
“Yeah.” Another shrug. “Got it at U-Florida.”   
  
“Wait,” Charles cut in. “The University of Florida?”   
  
Nathan glared. “Yeah. That’s what I just _said_ , dickwad.”   
  
“Sorry.” Charles held up a hand. “Go on. I’m…interested to hear about your degree.” Surprisingly enough, he was. Nathan had flunked the GED, for god’s sake; the hidden depths he was revealing now were pretty damn riveting. “How long did that take you? I’m assuming you wrote a thesis.”   
  
“Yeah.” Nathan was actually smiling. “Fuckin’ awesome. Did my thesis on dead Gears – it isn’t like there aren’t a million of _those_ guys lying around. You know, cause of death and pathology and shit. Did you know we have a lot of am…ambin… _ambidextrous_ Gears here?”   
  
In lieu of pinching the bridge of his nose, Charles sucked a corner of his bottom lip into his mouth. “Yes, Nathan, I do know that. I hired them.”   
  
“Oh. Oh! Right. Yeah, so…I did that. Then like a year ago, I did some postdoc work with the dead Gears and then Southern Illinois U offered me a job in the med school and…I took it. I mean, what was I gonna do, say no to working with dead bodies? They’re _metal_.”   
  
“Mystery solved,” Charles managed to say. Working with dead bodies sounded right up Nathan’s alley. “How…how did…” _Collect yourself, dammit!_ He cleared his throat and started again. “Nathan. If you achieved all these things, how in _hell_ did you fail the GED?”   
  
Nathan scrunched up his face and very visibly thought about it; Charles could almost hear the gears in his head clunking away. Maybe they weren’t as rusted and cobweb-covered as he’d thought. “I was really drunk,” he said after a few seconds. “And I had a giant stupid bio test the day after that, so I had to study for _that_ , not the motherfucking GED. I took it online, but I still had to take it in an hour. The bio test, I mean. Assholes.”   
  
Charles was well acquainted with asshole professors, but he suspected that his college experience was a world away from Nathan’s. For one, he hadn’t made a _habit_ of getting hammered the day before an exam; maybe that was just what the kids were doing these days. Damn, he felt old.   
  
He shook his head to break himself out of a train of thought that would undoubtedly lead to idiotic age-related depression, and looked Nathan in the face. “Look, Nathan,” he said, “this is unacceptable. Not that you’re teaching – I have no problem with you getting an education, but you _need_ to let me know your whereabouts.”   
  
Nathan’s top lip curled into a sneer. “You mean I gotta tell you when I go teach class and…when I take a shit and when I go jack off? God, that’s creepy.”   
  
“Nathan, for god’s sake.” Charles folded his arms. “No, I don’t need to know the _specifics_ of your personal business, but a large part of my job involves making sure that you boys are safe and accounted for at all times. Whenever I don’t know where you are, then for one, you’re automatically in danger. For another, I can’t protect you from yourself.”   
  
“I don’t _need_ to be fucking protected from myself!” Nathan bellowed. Charles fought not to take a step back in surprise. Like a dog, Nathan usually gave at least some warning before he started using the heavy artillery (although his version didn’t involve biting). “I’m a grown guy, okay? I’m not _Toki_. You know what?” He stepped closer to Charles and stabbed a finger dangerously close to his chest. “I have my fucking Ph.D. That’s a lot more than _you_ have.”   
  
“This isn’t a contest.” Trust Nathan to get into a pissing contest about _education_ , when everyone except his students, and now Charles, thought he was an idiot. “Calm down, Nathan, I’m not trying to belittle you. I’m trying to keep you safe. Do you understand?”   
  
“Why do you even care so much?” Nathan asked. “Caring’s gay. You’re supposed to do the money shit and keep us from doing stuff that’s too stupid. What the _fuck_ is stupid about getting an assfucking _education?_ ” Despite himself, Charles blinked at the image that popped into his head as a result of Nathan’s phrasing. “I mean, I’m helping people learn what the body does, so they can be metal. Like Dethklok.”   
  
“I’m not disputing the, ah, _metal_ quality of your teachings,” Charles said. Any interaction with that much swearing would be metal by anyone’s standards, even Dethklok’s. “Nor am I opposed to you following your interests. I just need to know whenever you happen to be doing something that involves those interests, simply in order to _do my job_.”   
  
Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture that Charles suddenly realized was probably learned from _him_. “You know why I don’t want to give you a a motherfucking heads-up whenever I go to class?” he said, after a long pause. His voice was quieter than Charles could remember it ever being, save for at the tail end of the band’s summer cold, when Nathan had lost his voice. “I wanted a thing where I didn’t have _you_ following me around with your _manager_ and _publicity_ shit. The guys would try to make me stop, and then I’d be on the Dethklok Minute and then, uh…everyone would know. All the dildos in the stupid dick-sucking world.”   
  
“Your students –“   
  
“Yeah, they know. I’m their _teacher_.” Nathan actually sighed. “You think they give a shit about who I am? I don’t fucking _sing_ in class. I just teach them all the brutal shit about the human body, and that’s what they like. And I…like it, too. It’s _my_ thing.” He shook a strand of hair out of his eyes. “The guys don’t know, and you didn’t know, so you couldn’t try to do shit about it. It’s… _fuck_.” He shook his head again, as though trying to shake the thoughts into the right sections of his brain and out of his mouth. “It’s the one thing where I’m brutal ‘cause of what I _know_ , not the shit I do.”   
  
“And knowledge is power,” Charles said, his voice dropping to just as quiet a tone as Nathan’s had.   
  
“No.” Nathan shook his head. “It’s not about power or anything. It’s just…yeah. You remember the stuff I was good at in high school, right? You’ve heard about it?”   
  
“Yes,” Charles said. “Frog dissection and football. That’s common knowledge, Nathan.”   
  
“Yeah, well…I’m still good at that shit, except I let myself go, so I’m better at dissection. And I know it’s not metal, but I fucking _like_ dissections and biology.” Another shake of his head. “This… _really_ isn’t fucking metal, but I don’t give a shit about power. I got enough power – I mean, I’m in _Dethklok_. It’s just…it’s, uhhh…my…” Nathan scratched his temple.   
  
Charles waited.   
  
“Dream, maybe,” Nathan finally said. “It’s pussy and gay and shit like that, but _yeah_ , it’s my dream. And now you’re gonna follow me around and ruin the shit out of it, just ‘cause you couldn’t be a regular jackoff and _not_ watch me like a creepy fucking _asshole!_ ”   
  
His voice had left the realms of ‘quiet’ in the dust over the course of the last few sentences, and he was approaching ‘atomic’ at a frightening pace. His high cheekbones emphasized his flushed cheeks, as though his fury had taken enough out of him to be a workout – which made sense, what with the angry panting currently making his chest heave. Charles had seen him like this before, of course, but never in this context.   
  
Directed towards his bandmates, yes. Towards a song that hadn’t been written as he’d thought it, sure. But never in true passion.   
  
“Nathan,” he said, “believe me, I’m not trying to be an…an asshole. And I have no intention of telling your bandmates anything about your activities.” He took a step or two closer, noting that some of the angry blush was leaving Nathan’s cheeks. It was probably safe to get close to him now. “All I’m asking is that you tell me when you leave to teach class. You don’t even have to see me in person, if it bothers you that much.”   
  
“You mean…” Nathan held up his Dethphone and jabbed a big finger into the screen. “I could send you a stupid text and then go to class? I don’t even have to _talk_ to you?”   
  
“No, you don’t.” Nathan wasn’t even willing to spare him a few words? Was Charles really that horrendous of a person? “Text me to let me know when you leave Mordhaus, and what you’re doing. That’s all.”   
  
Nathan furrowed his brows, but not very deeply this time. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell you when I go take a shit and jack off and teach class.”   
  
Charles sighed. “You don’t need to be sarcastic. All I need to know is when you leave Mordhaus. I don’t need to know when you, ah…masturbate.” And he didn’t need to think about it, either, not when Nathan was standing right there.   
  
“Heh…I know.” Nathan grinned. “I’m just being a dick. But _hey_.” He poked Charles in the chest, making the manager step back a little. “If you wanna know when I go teach class so fuckin’ bad, you should _take_ my class. What kind of manager are you? Don’t know where the _appendix_ is.”   
  
For the love of – would Nathan _never_ quit talking about this? “The appendix isn’t even useful, Nathan,” Charles told him. “I know enough about the body to have incapacitated assassins for you boys before. I’m not a doctor.”   
  
“Yeah, but what if one of us needed to get it taken out?” Nathan asked. “We’d have really fucking brutal stomach pain and fever, and we’d be puking all over the place like a bunch of dildos, and you’d probably think it was the _stomach flu_.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “Then we’d hamburger time, and it’d be your fault.”   
  
Of course – Nathan was afraid of hamburger time. That explained a lot. “You’re describing a worst-case scenario. I would have you boys in St. Necrophagist’s before anything lethal could happen.”   
  
“Well, yeah,” Nathan said, “but…okay, here’s another one. What’s the dura mater, and why’s it important?”   
  
What in hell was the dura mater? It sounded like some kind of construction equipment. “I’m not sure, but that’s not relevant to-“   
  
“It’s the stuff that covers your brain. The…membrane, I mean,” Nathan interrupted him, “and it’s important because it protects your brain. If you get it replaced, you can’t ever donate blood again.”   
  
“I don’t see how that’s important to your daily life, since neither you nor your bandmates have ever donated blood,” Charles said.   
  
He wasn’t expecting Nathan to grab him by the shoulders and clamp on. “ _Hey!_ ” Nathan rumbled, his face only a few inches away from Charles’s. “It doesn’t fucking _matter_ if we’re not gonna donate blood. Shit like that happens all the time to people. You want us to hamburger time ‘cause you didn’t give a shit about learning about our bodies?”   
  
Charles knew it was completely inappropriate, and not at all what Nathan meant, but he couldn’t help envisioning a method of learning about the singer’s body that had absolutely nothing to do with anatomy class. “Nathan, please get out of my face.”   
  
“Yeah?” Nathan bared his teeth. “What are you gonna do if I don’t?”   
  
If there was a god, then Charles was going to hell for taking advantage of a client, but he didn’t care. Taking Nathan’s face between his hands, he drew his head down before he could protest, and kissed him hard.   
  
Nathan’s lips were thin, but softer than they looked. Still, Charles didn’t have more than a few seconds to appreciate the sensation before Nathan jumped back. “ _Whoa!_ ” He glared down at Charles. “What the fucking _fuck_ , dude? Are you _gay?_ ” He blinked. “ _Whoa_. I…I couldn’t tell you were fucking _gay_.”   
  
Charles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, Nathan, I think an experienced anatomist like you would realize that you can’t _tell_ if a person is gay,” he said icily. “Please get out of my face.”   
  
Nathan’s mouth opened slightly. “You _kissed_ me,” he said. “You probably wanna _fuck_ me.”   
  
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Charles said, although his dick would beg to differ.   
  
“Yeah, but…guys don’t kiss guys unless they wanna fuck them or bite them, and you don’t bite people. I don’t think.” Nathan chewed on his lip. “And, I…uhhhhhhh…whoa.” He looked down at his crotch. “Holy shit.”   
  
If Charles hadn’t seen Nathan teaching a class only a few hours before, he would have thought that someone this fucking dumb couldn’t possibly know a thing about the body. “Yes, Nathan, you have an erection.” Without a doubt, this was one of the weirdest conversations he’d ever had with a member of the band, and that was saying a lot. “I’m going to leave you alone now. Do you understand?”  
  
Clearly, Nathan didn’t. Instead of backing away, or accusing Charles of being gay again, he grabbed Charles’s face in his hands hard enough to leave bruises and mashed their mouths together. It was more than a kiss; it was more like an attack, albeit one that took Charles’s breath away without the characteristic pain in his solar plexus.   
  
He didn’t pull away, as Nathan had. Instead, he covered Nathan’s hands with his own and leaned into him, parting his lips a little and moaning softly when Nathan’s tongue pushed between them. “Mmm…” Nathan’s mouth was hot and wet, and Charles could feel himself getting even harder.   
  
And then, suddenly, that mouth was gone. Charles opened his eyes – had he closed them? He couldn’t remember – to find himself looking into Nathan’s own. “Fuck,” Nathan said. “Hey, Charles?”   
  
Charles licked his lips. “Yes, Nathan?”   
  
“Hey, Charles. I think you _do_ wanna know when I go jack off.” Nathan’s eyes creased into a smile. “You wanna fuck?”   
  
“That’s…that’s…” _That’s inappropriate_ , he wanted to say, but his mouth wasn’t working right for some reason. “Um.” Oh, god, now he sounded like Nathan. If constantly getting laid did this to people, then he wanted no part of it. “I…” Who was he kidding? He wanted to get laid, and the man he wanted was standing in front of him, still holding his face in his hands. “I’m not at liberty to say.”   
  
Nathan let go of his face. “Yeah? Huh. I bet you’re not.” He chuckled. “That’s brutal.” Was it _ever_. Charles felt a bit like he’d just been hit in the chest with the Dethbus. “I don’t wanna fuck you right now. I’m gonna go eat some chips.” He jerked his head towards the pantry cabinets.   
  
Charles gulped. “Will we talk later?”   
  
Nathan paused, then rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ll get fucking horny sometime. And the groupies don’t come every day. So…yeah. Yeah, we’ll talk. And do gay shit, but if you tell the guys, I’ll punch you.”   
  
There was little to no danger of that, but saying so would probably be redundant. Charles ran his fingers through his hair to neaten it, and cleared his throat. “I’m going back to work,” he said. Nothing calmed his mind after a weird evening better than a big stack of paternity waivers.   
  
Nathan was already rummaging through the pantry. “Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled. How had he gotten into the chips already? “Talk to you later. _Fuck_ , these are good.”   
  
Charles shook his head and left the kitchen, hoping upon hope that his face wasn’t flushed enough to make it obvious what he’d been doing – or what he still wanted. He’d never known Nathan to wait for anything before, but maybe - _maybe_ \- the fact that he was doing so now meant that he wanted more than what he did with his groupies.   
  
If this was what Nathan had meant by taking his anatomy class, then Charles would gladly put his name on the roster soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This title is also from "Rocky Road," by Peter, Paul and Mary.


End file.
